A Familiar Path
by Jemmiah
Summary: ObiWan finds that history has a habit of repeating itself.
1. A Familiar Path

**A Familiar Path**

**By Jemmiah**

* * *

He'd had no idea who the padawan was, except that he was young and fresh-faced, probably straight from the crèche. Something about the way his hair sat in protest, upright from his scalp, told Obi-Wan that this was probably the first time the boy's hair had ever been shorn tight against his head; the stumpy little tail behind his ear lending weight to his theory. 

Good. Too young to know anything except truth and honesty. Too young to suspect any interior motives that he, the gallant, Sith-slaying knight may well have hidden away…

He needed someone who would obey without question, who would do as he asked. The padawan was his means to an end; and as he glanced down at the other end of the crowded room Kenobi could make out his quarry standing silently against the wall, glass in hand, making no real effort to join in the festivities that had been laid out on behalf of Simeon Cates and his new wife.

She looked sad, Obi-Wan thought silently, watching her every move. Rela had been right. Something had happened. Not just anything: something big. He'd tried of course to get more information from both Rela and Simeon but it had not been forthcoming; hardly surprising given the fact they had more important things to concern themselves with. At least that was what Obi-Wan was assuming; Rela hadn't seemed particularly comfortable discussing Jemmiah when he'd quizzed her.

Alone at a party? And deliberately seeking to be so? Yes, something was very wrong there. Obi-Wan looked around for Jonas - and then received his answer: Jonas Suul was not there.

_If he's forced her to this wedding unaccompanied then small wonder she's displeased._ Obi-Wan's lips thinned sympathetically, knowing how much Jemmiah relished security. _Perhaps they've had words and have fallen out?_

What made him think she would speak to _him? _

After a further fifteen minutes of observation Obi-Wan had witnessed Jemmiah deftly and courteously brush off polite conversations with both Zac and Tanni, smiling at them with a britleness he'd rarely seen in her before. They'd taken the hint, bowed, and retreated to mingle with the others, awarding each other nonplussed shrugs as they'd moved away. Clearly they were just as baffled as he, Obi-Wan, remained.

He had to find out!

Obi-Wan called the padawan over, one of Simeon's banister sliding ex-patients no doubt, allowed to attend through a combination of Cate's wishes and the good will of the boy's master. A mere child, nothing more, of perhaps eight or nine years of age with dark brown hair and eyes, who stood looking up at him as if he were sleepwalking through some kind of dream. Ever since the day he'd returned from Naboo Obi-Wan had gotten used to that expression, the adulation and the hushed awe. Here was a man who had slain a Sith! Impressive it may well have been but Kenobi disliked looking back on that time, for the victory had come at the cost of his master's life…

Weddings were no time for sorrows, he reminded himself sternly, straightening his slightly rounded shoulders in response to his own mental rebuke. Besides, he had to concentrate. He had to get to the bottom of this. He had to see her again, just this one last time…

"Master Obi-Wan?" The boy bowed hesitantly.

"Don't be afraid." Obi-Wan offered him a cheerful smile, patting the youngster on the shoulder. "I'm in need of some help, and I think you can be of assistance. Would you like to help me?"

The innocent face lit up just as he expected it to. Perhaps he was using his own unwanted fame and celebrity on this occasion, and whilst doing so made him more than a little uncomfortable Obi-Wan knew he just couldn't go crawling right over to her, not unless he wanted to be treated the same cool manner she'd treated Zac or Tanni.

"Yes, Master Obi-Wan." The child bowed yet again, delighted by the unexpected honor. "How can I help?"

Obi-Wan steered the boy over to the doorway and crouched down until he was the same height as the child, sitting back on his heels. Throughout the crowds of well wishers he could still see her. Even half the galaxy away he could still see her in his mind's eye, and sense when she was happy or when she was upset. Recently, Obi-Wan had been quick to note, their had been much unhappiness. Not even the slightly envious element of his heart could find gladness in that. She had chosen Jonas and had been content in her married life with him. Even Rela had said so.

So where was Jonas now?

"The young lady in the blue dress." He pointed over at Jemmiah, still standing against the wall and looking as if she'd rather be a million parsecs away judging by the miserable manner in which she stared into her half full wineglass. "Do you see her?"

It was a silly question. Ninety percent of the guests were wearing Jedi tunics, and those who were not didn't stand out the way Jemmiah always did in assemblies of this nature. The padawan might not even have been aware of who Jemmiah was; it was entirely possible after all, for she had vacated the temple some years ago on her marriage to Suul.

"Yes, Master Obi-Wan." Nodded the apprentice solemnly.

"I would like you to take her this note." He reached into his tunic and located the folded flimsy, over which he had sweated tears of blood until he'd finally found a short little message that conveyed his thoughts adequately. "Can you do that for me?"

The padawan was clearly wondering why a great man such as Obi-Wan Kenobi couldn't take the note to the girl in the blue dress himself, but he quickly covered his initial surprise with a curt nod. It was not his place to wonder, but to do as requested.

"Yes, I'll go now."

"Good boy." Smiled Obi-Wan, hoping that his words of praise would be enough reward. "I am very grateful to you."

The padawan toddled along, past the crowds, dodging people three times his own height in some instances, with Obi-Wan's sight trained fervently upon him. As the dark haired apprentice fingered the flimsy a few times in nervous fashion, Obi-Wan swallowed. He saw the boy pause momentarily in the middle of the floor, trying to read the name on the outside of the letter. Did it matter if he did? The name Jemmiah Suul would hardly mean anything to him, would it? Nor would Obi-Wan's past interest in her.

He watched the padawan until he saw him safely to Jemmiah's side, reaching out and tugging at the blue dress by way of getting her attention, and witnessed the note being passed from his own hand into hers. That was all that Obi-Wan needed to see, and hastened towards the turbo lift that would take him back to the apartment he now shared with Anakin Skywalker. No need to watch her expression, or guess how she had felt on hearing his name being uttered again, or seeing his handwriting laid out before her in fine, inky strokes.

"Come and see me," the note had declared.

Now only time would tell whether she would summon the courage to do just that…

* * *

Obi-Wan waited, and waited…and waited some more.

He'd developed into a more patient person since he'd become mentor to young Anakin but then again he hadn't any choice in the matter. His padawan was smart, helpful and intelligent yet inclined even at such a young age to try and push Obi-Wan's limits as much as he could possibly get away with. That of course was what most young children did to their masters, exploring exactly how far they could go before getting a rebuke. Obi-Wan had not been so different himself, and indeed Qui-Gon seemed for the most part to enjoy the challenge of his apprentice's stubborn, resolute streak. Still, even Obi-Wan had known when to graciously back down…

Most of the time.

Jemmy had been different. Whilst Qui-Gon had been just as strict with her as he had whilst training padawans there was little that Jemmiah wouldn't do to twist the master around her finger until he gave way. It was a special skill that the Corellian girl had, being able to use her radiant brand of charm to win people over to her own way of thinking. She could attract people without even realizing she was doing so…

And was still doing so, evidently. That was why he was sat in the semi-dark, waiting for her to knock on the door, and wondering if she ever would. Anakin was away with Toms that week on the trip to Chandrila, and even though Obi-Wan felt slightly guilty for thinking it he couldn't help but be glad. There were things he needed to speak to Jemmiah about; things left unspoken for far too long.

They'd parted politely, if frostily the day she'd finally left to be with Jonas, but it hadn't been a proper goodbye, not in his book. Regret was such a useless thing to feel after all the time that had passed: the damage to their friendship had surely long been done. Even an overture such as the one he had just made in the hope of re-establishing that much missed and lamented camaraderie seemed doomed to almost certain failure. She would not come, and he would be left alone in the dark to sit and brood, and wonder why he had managed to make a mess of such a simple thing as apologising to her, something he'd had much practise at in the past…

The hesitant tapping at the door broke Obi-Wan's concentration.

As he walked across the room, avoiding some of the gadgetry that Anakin seemed so adept at leaving scattered wherever it shouldn't be, Obi-Wan's brain registered surprise that Jemmiah would turn up at all. He'd all but convinced himself that she would not want to see him, and was resigned to it, yet the force backed up everything his ears told him: she had voluntarily come to him. Stepping up his pace lest she should decide to back away before he got to the door, Obi-Wan toggled the control to the doorway and allowed the shiny surface to slide back…

Jemmiah stood there, head half bowed, clutching at his flimsy note like it were her only valid reason to visit, twisting it agitatedly round her fingers. Obi-Wan found himself with the opportunity to admire her close up once again, but dared not do so for fear she might take offence and turn tale, fleeing. Her chestnut hair was pinned decoratively to the top of her head as was the fashion, but Obi-Wan found himself barely able to tear his own eyes away from her own. Two molten pools blinked back at him, nervous and uncertain, rimmed by two rings of black. How he had once admired those enchanting eyes!

_But that's all in the past…_ Obi-Wan squirmed against the stirrings within his heart, resisting all efforts to secure his affection again. _I cannot go down that path again no matter how I feel…it leads nowhere we've not already been. And for what? One tawdry week alone?_

The knight felt the color in his cheeks mount, glad that it was dark within his rooms. He was fighting a losing battle and he knew it. He'd known it the moment he'd set eyes on her again, long before he'd sent the young padawan to deliver his note. Why was he pretending it wasn't so? Fooling himself would achieve nothing.

"Jemmiah…" he offered her his most sincere smile and stepped aside, bidding her enter the room. "It's…it's good to see you again."

Toying with the flimsy, Jemmiah didn't dare to risk returning the look his sea change eyes condescended to give her. She could well remember every fine detail about Obi-Wan, from the way he stood when deep in thought and each tiny accompanying mannerism, to the way he swaggered when he walked. Even now Jemmiah had no real idea why she had responded to his note or what there was to be gained in raking over dust which had barely settled.

Why had he asked to see her? And what had made her follow after him?

"Where's Anakin?" she asked in a voice somewhat deeper than Obi-Wan recollected, sounding rough and smoky.

"He's not at the temple this week." Obi-Wan bit back the irritation - and disappointment - he always felt whenever Jemmiah questioned him about Anakin. She'd never been anything but polite to his apprentice but there was perhaps a malingering residue of resentment there which he thought ill-became her. If Anakin had sensed it he had said nothing, but try as hard as he could there was little that could make Jemmiah change the way she felt towards the boy, not even their shared background of down-trodden slavery. Perhaps Anakin was a painful reminder of her own past.

"Camp training for the Draigon clan." He added by way of explanation.

"Lucky Draigon clan." The voice whispered, still not looking at him.

Obi-Wan closed the door behind her and watched the shapely legs carry her across to the center of the floor, where she stood, seemingly at a loss for what to do or how to act. The shields were down this time, thought Obi-Wan, viewing the uncomfortable figure that gave out every possible body signal asking him not to get too close…not to pry. But he had to. He had to know what was wrong. Through the force he could sense the raw and pained emotions as if they were his very own. What could have caused such a reaction?

"I didn't ask you here to talk about Anakin. I wanted to talk about you…"

"I'm not worth discussing." Jemmiah stared obstinately at the ground.

"I don't believe that for a moment. Jemmy…" He slowly stalked his way across the room over to where she stood. "I know something is wrong. And I know that it's something extreme…" She spun away from him, half-turning, but he caught her elbow and moved round with her. "I can see it in the way you hide from me. So, tell me what's happened!"

"Nothing. Nothing's happened." She replied hurriedly, retreating further into herself.

"That's a lie."

"Has Rela said anything to you?" Jemmiah snapped, for the first time daring to risk looking directly into his eyes. Oh, that was a bad move! They were scrutinising her, searching her for every weakness, sensing her vulnerability like a predator singling out the weakest link in the herd. His hair, she noticed with interest, came down to the shoulders, but thankfully of the beard there was no sign. Perhaps Rela had demanded he get rid of it.

"Rela wouldn't say anything - and that in itself alerted me to the fact that something had happened." Obi-Wan persisted, looking into the upturned copper eyes, still shining brightly amidst the dulled room. "Do you want to tell me?"

"No."

"Why not?" Demanded Obi-Wan.

"Because I choose not to."

"I can help you." Obi-Wan was stood right in front of her now, so close that Jemmiah could feel his breath on her skin. What did he think he was doing? She didn't want his help! How dare he presume to think that he could do anything to alleviate the pain that she was feeling! "Qui-Gon told me to make sure that you were looked after. I know that Jonas has that role now but I still want to be of help in any way that I can…"

He'd caught the flinch as he'd deliberately mentioned her husband's name, like voltage intensity right through her body. Now he had his answer. Jonas was no longer in the picture. Jonas had somehow hurt her. Even whilst he felt anguished on her behalf that small spark of hopefulness had rekindled in his own mind, and no matter how he pushed it away it wouldn't leave him.

"You can't help." Jemmiah's voice was small, defeated.

"You've left him?"

The answer was a long time in coming, but arrived in the form of a single brisk nod - and an unexpected eruption of tears. Obi-Wan stepped back slightly, uncertain what to do. He never knew how best to react when she cried, because those occasions were few and far between. It was like being permitted to see a chink in her formidable armour, when Jemmiah felt unable to keep up her usual pretence that everything was all right in the galaxy.

She'd half covered her face, whether through embarrassment or grief he couldn't say, making it difficult to offer her any solace. Obi-Wan pulled her gently into as comforting an embrace he could manage, rocking her slightly in his arms, her tears wet against the open neck of his tunic.

"Shhh. You'll be okay." He soothed her, tightening his arm around her side as he spoke. "You will be. Given time…"

"It's not fair." Obi-Wan thought he heard her say. "I tried so hard…"

"Then you've nothing to blame yourself for." He placed a small kiss on the top of her forehead, breathing in the slightly perfumed scent of her hair. It had been a considerable time since he had been in this position, he admitted, holding her closer to him. Certainly since he and Jemmiah had gone their separate ways there had been only one other - and Rela had rightly pointed out her unsuitability, even though Obi-Wan remained certain her cutting remarks had been made out of loyalty and a partisan love for Jemmiah.

Without realising it, the kiss had turned into several of its kind, trailing all the way down from her forehead to the base of her neck. Frightened eyes regarded him for a moment, shocked and perplexed at how the chaste embrace had suddenly become something more ardent with little effort from either of them. So easy to slip back into old ways…but what good would it do? What was the point in revisiting the past when it was already known to them? The same rut, but a different - if familiar - wheel…

"We never did get to say goodbye, did we?" Obi-Wan breathed intensely, placing another kiss at the side of her mouth, delighting in the way that she closed her eyes and let him continue with his caresses. How long had it been since she had been treated lovingly or respectfully? Too long, if what the force told him was true. Much too long…

"Ben…we shouldn't do this." Jemmy shook her head but made no move to push him away. "We should stop."

He bent close to her ear, nuzzling the side of her neck.

"Do you want to?" he asked her.

It was no choice, really. No competition. To love and be loved, or to be ignored…to be valueless and cast off like an old garment no longer fit for use. To wallow eternally in self-pity, or to let herself be comforted by someone who wanted her. Love or emptiness.

She reached out to the long, reddish hair, marvelling at the way it felt underneath her fingers.

"No. I don't want to stop."

"Neither do I." Obi-Wan replied, placing a further kiss against the side of her neck just below her ear. He hadn't planned on a seduction, hadn't planned for any of this, even if he had hoped…but somehow it felt so right, like treading a familiar and much loved road. Anakin was away…oh, yes indeed. It all seemed so perfect, as if the force had somehow engineered the whole thing. Maybe it wasn't so tawdry after all? One week together, and then…

Obi-Wan took her hand and led her unprotesting to the room once inhabited by his master, wondering what Qui-Gon would think of what they were embarking upon. It hardly mattered. Tonight, at least, they would be together.

Wordlessly Jemmiah followed him into the room, leaving the crumpled flimsy note to fall to the floor.


	2. Sweet, Conversational Nothings

**Sweet, Conversational Nothings**

**By Jemmiah**

****

* * *

Darkness.

That was the first thing that Jemmiah's brain recognised on waking. The room was dark…the room was…whose room was this, anyway? It didn't look much like her own bedroom. It didn't feel like it, either. Nor did it smell like it!

She was half-asleep: eyes refusing to open more than a mere crack. _My brain must be addled,_ Jemmy thought wearily. She was still confused through partial consciousness, struggling to process everything around her…even although she was fairly certain that her bedroom at home had a window where the wall currently seemed to be. And why was it so dark?

Jemmy gave a small whimper and turned over onto her left side. There additionally appeared to be a wall where her bedside vanity table should be. She batted it with her hand, not quite ready to trust her first impressions…

_Yup,_ she thought groggily. _It's a wall. How in the name of the seven Corellian hells did that get there?_

She closed her eyes again. Obviously she was still dreaming: it was the only explanation she could come up with for hallucinating walls. Either that or she'd been to a really wild party the night before…

Come to think of it, her bed seemed to have shrunk from double size to little more than a single. If that wasn't bad enough there was something squashing her up against the wall, taking up most of the bed. If Zebedee had decided to jump up again there would be hell to pay. Jonas couldn't abide it when he did that…

No. Zebedee was back with her aunt. And Jonas was…

Jemmiah felt her gut tighten as she remembered, clenching her jaw; her teeth scraping against one another in an effort to grind away the pain that always accompanied that particular remembrance. Jonas was out of the picture: she'd walked out on him and run to Coruscant to be with her friends…her friends who last evening had become man and wife. Rela and Simeon, a match surely destined to work where her own had failed. In one breath Jemmy wished the pair of them well and cursed their good fortune. Why was everyone happy except her? What had she done to deserve her own run of bad luck? The questions kept repeating themselves over and over in her head. _Why_ not her? _Why_ had Rela found someone who cared for her and she had lumbered herself with the most undeserving, ungrateful bastard that ever drew breath?

Maybe she just attracted trash. Yes, she reasoned, that must surely be it.

She hated Jonas. She hated him because she knew that she, paradoxically, still loved him. She hated him for the hold he still had upon her from half way across the galaxy. That was why she was still writhing and screaming inside at his betrayal. That was why she wished him dead.

Despite her best efforts one eye insisted on opening again. It still couldn't make much sense of what she was seeing around her. The room was small, simple and virtually empty save for a bed and what appeared to be a trunk in the far corner. Perhaps she was in her hotel room?

_How in the name of the force did I get back,_ she wondered bleakly_. How much did I have to drink? Does this look remotely like the sort of place I would book myself into? If this is five star accommodation I think I'd sooner sleep outdoors…_

It smelled familiar though. Not unpleasant, it was a comforting, reassuring smell…warm and masculine. And that was what bothered her, because she knew that she had not spent the evening with Jonas.

So just who the hell was that in her bed?

She fought the urge to dive headfirst out of the bed, grab her clothes and run. Instead she slowly, gradually turned her head towards the 'lump' in the bed next to her and found that it - or rather he - was staring right back at her, looking equally astonished and bleary-eyed. Even in the dark Jemmy could make out the unmistakable expression of astonishment on the face that lay next to hers on the pillow.

"Good morning." The cultured voice said, much surprised. "At least I presume it's morning now."

Jemmiah blinked.

"Obi-Wan?" She groaned, covering her face with her free hand - the one that wasn't trapped underneath her partner's body. "Oh, kriff."

The lump that was Obi-Wan Kenobi considered his response for a moment.

"You really do know how to make a person feel good about themselves, don't you?" He answered with typical dryness. "Besides which, were you expecting someone else?"

He caught the pause. Felt the response rather that heard it. Sensed the force around him - within both himself and herself - shift and contort uncomfortably like twisted shrapnel. He could sense the ache, the grief, the confusion…feel it boiling into something altogether darker. Had she really for a moment thought that she had been coiled in her husband's embrace? Or had she merely been wishing it?

No, Obi-Wan thought. What he felt from Jemmy was anger. Even half-asleep Jemmiah could project anger extremely efficiently. It cut through his senses like a sabre through flesh. Whatever it was Jonas had done must have been pretty spectacular to induce such incredible passion.

And on the subject of incredible passion…

"I, er…" Obi-Wan felt his face flame slightly in the darkness. "Feel somewhat guilty. I hope that you don't hold my conduct last night against me. I wouldn't like you to think that I had been planning anything…"

Jemmiah bit back her own bitterness. Taking her confusion and anger out on him would be as wrong as Jonas' hurtful accusations had been to her. Besides which, it took two to perform the 'Dance of Passion'…

"I don't seem to recollect trying to escape your fiendish clutches." Jemmy blew out a deep breath. Not that she remembered too much about last night, other than going to Obi-Wan's apartment, clutching the flimsy note he had sent her as if it were here only hope of salvation. And the fact that she had sought him out in response to his letter: what did that say about her? She must have known, surely, what it might lead to? Which meant that she must have only herself to blame for anything she now happened to find distasteful the morning after. "What a mess this is. What a catastrophic, kriff-awful mess…"

Obi-Wan sensed her spirits sinking and wondered if there was anything at all that he could say or do that would pull her out of this unnatural depression. Whatever the truth behind her decision to leave Jonas, he had five days to find out what had occurred. In the meantime he had to overcome his natural sense of shame at the idea of finding himself in bed with another man's wife: even if that man was, according to Jemmy, no longer a part of her life. He'd comforted her, soothed her, loved her and held her through the night, and he could tell that recollection of the evening's activities were finally beginning to sink in, if her bewildered expression was anything to go by.

"Is your bed usually this uncomfortable?" She wondered outloud.

"You're lying on my leg." Came back Obi-Wan's mildly amused reply.

His smile faltered fractionally when he remembered that this was exactly what he had hoped to avoid. It wasn't so much the compromising situation but rather _whom_ he found himself in that situation with that was problematic, given their past history. Attachment was something he had sworn to forsake. Could he pretend that he felt nothing for Jemmiah? And truly if that _was_ the case, that would show a lack of regard towards her. Was he just using her, then? He didn't know which was worse. One was against the rule of the code and the other against his personal standards as a gentleman; a blatant disrespect to someone he'd come to regard as one of the most astounding individuals he'd ever known.

_I want to help her, _Obi-Wan thought, watching every subtle gesture and twitch of Jemmy's lips, feeling the surrounding force push and pull him in every direction with each emotion that she experienced. _I'm sure we can be civilised about this. You can care without risking involvement. That is what life - and the force - is about…_

He rolled towards her, placing a somewhat impudent kiss against her neck, just below her ear.

"How did we let it get to this?" Jemmy eyed him warily. "Did I…did I lead you on at all? Was I drunk? I'm not sure I understand how we allowed this to happen."

"Maybe we were both in need of some comfort." Obi-Wan pulled her gently towards him, wrapping her in his arms. "Perhaps this is the resolution…the goodbye that we surely both deserve."

_Goodbye?_ Jemmiah's eyes conveyed her shock at Obi-Wan's use of the word. "Why should it be a goodbye? I don't want to make this a permanent farewell. Last night may have meant nothing to you - or myself for that matter - but that doesn't mean I want to walk away completely." She turned to face him: her face reflecting the childish earnestness that Obi-Wan found so endearing. "You're still a part of my life whether we are together or not. Don't you feel that?"

"Our lives have changed." Obi-Wan answered simply, stroking the warm, wavy strands of chestnut hair that tickled his mouth as he spoke. "Attachments are forbidden. I love you, yes…I always will. One way or another." He added, sounding slightly confused as he pondered over the nature of his multi-faceted relationship with Jemmy. "But I have long since learned to let you go. You belong to another."

"I belong to nobody!" Jemmy sat up, eyes blazing indignantly. "No man controls my destiny. Especially not…"

She stopped herself from saying his name just in time, but Obi-Wan caught the violent swirling of the force currents around them, their strength and ferocity multiplying each time she thought of Jonas Suul, the man who had been her husband.

"Do you wish to talk about it?" He asked her simply.

"What?"

"Whatever it is that Jonas has done to make you despise him."

Jemmiah audibly snapped her jaw shut. "No I don't!"

"You'd be best advised to consider it." Obi-Wan continued to urge her quietly. "For your own piece of mind. And if you have truly decided to leave Jonas behind you then you should resolve to let him go in your heart, as well as your head. I can feel the conflict within you, tearing you this way and that. You have to make up your mind what it is you want…do you want Jonas, or do you step away from that chapter of your life and get on with the next?"

Jemmiah turned her head away so swiftly that Obi-Wan was surprised that it didn't snap.

"Now, look…" He said uncertainly, placing his hand upon her shoulder. "Please…don't start crying. I never know what to do or how best to comfort you!"

"I don't care about Jonas." She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "I want to forget him."

"Very good." The Jedi nodded. "Now try saying it as if you mean it."

She either wasn't prepared to discuss the subject with him or simply wasn't ready, which Obi-Wan could understand given that it was still so early in the morning, although he felt somewhat disappointed at her lack of response. In many ways, lying in the dark and simply holding her against him, it was the ideal opportunity to talk. Certainly she would have a sympathetic audience! And more than anything the young knight felt that it was his mission - and duty as a friend - to finally get her to confess her troubles to him.

"Five days." He murmured in her ear. "That's all we have."

Jemmy remained perplexed, almost anxious. "You don't regret what happened between us, then?" She asked him, not certain of his intentions. "You want to stay with me until Anakin comes back, as that it? No strings? Just the two of us together?"

Obi-Wan's brow furrowed in customary Jedi fashion. "I think we have a lot to discuss." He offered by way of a reluctant answer, skirting the heart of her question. "I want to help you as best I can. That is why the force has brought you back into my life at this point; I feel sure of it. I will make it my mission to listen and advise you over the next few days, but to do that I need to be with you." He rubbed at her shoulder with his chin, the light growth of stubble gently scraping her flesh. "In the meantime I'm sure that we can continue where we left off…if you have the…inclination…"

The humour in his voice instantly put Jemmiah at her ease. Inclination, indeed! She knew exactly what kind of inclining he was referring to! Not that she had any objections…not that Jonas would object, the miserable slime-weed! Damn Obi-Wan for suggesting she was still in love with her husband! How did he know this was so? Could he sense it? Could he hear the words in her mind?

Had she called out his name in her sleep?

He rolled over her until he had her pinned beneath him. "You are very troubled by what Jonas did, aren't you? I can feel a great weight constricting your heart."

"It's called _you_." Jemmy breathed, looking directly into his eyes. "And you don't need to be a Jedi mind-reader to know that I'm 'troubled' as you so delicately put it. Do you think I'd walk out on my husband if I didn't feel I had good reason?"

Obi-Wan placed a playful kiss against the tip of her nose. "I'm just trying to get you to admit how you feel."

"You know fine well how I kriffing feel!" The Corellian glared at him, annoyed at his attempts to placate her anger by trailing a fine line of kisses along her collarbone. "You've already said you can sense it!"

"I can sense anger, yes." Obi-Wan nodded, ceasing his attentions for one moment. "And sadness. But most of all…" He closed his eyes, drawing on the glistening power of the force, feeling it move through him. "I can sense betrayal. You feel he has betrayed you in some way. Also I detect fear, because for the first time in years you are no longer certain of where your future lies. The certainties you clung to have been swept away…"

Jemmiah swore inwardly, knowing that Obi-Wan would be able to detect that, too.

"You just want me to shut up and make love to you." The Jedi smirked. "You'll have to be patient. I'm trying to formulate a plan of campaign."

"I thought that _was_ your plan." Growled Jemmiah, flexing her fingers as if they were talons.

Obi-Wan chuckled as if amused by some un-shared joke.

"What?" Jemmy demanded.

"Nothing." He smiled back at her, his blue eyes all innocence.

"I don't believe you."

For a moment Obi-Wan wondered if she was conjecturing how long it might take to brain him by striking him repeatedly with his pillow. A familiar sense of happiness seemed to fill the force around him until he felt its warmth and brilliant light circle them both. This was what he had missed: this sense of camaraderie and friendship that had always existed between them…had seemed to exist _before _they had met, if that were remotely possible. Then again with the force anything was possible and nothing, it was said, happened by luck. They had been destined to meet and so, therefore, they had.

"I've missed you." He admitted with genuine regret that quite took Jemmiah aback.

"I didn't think you were supposed to say things like that." She ventured after a quiet moment had passed between them. Reaching up to place her palm against his cheek, which he obligingly kissed, Jemmy wondered why this sudden intimacy felt so incredibly alien. "Surely the Jedi don't approve of lust…"

"I say that I miss you, and you mistake it for lust?" He quirked a single eyebrow upwards, which even in the dark Jemmiah did not fail to miss. "Besides, that never exactly stopped us in the past, did it?"

"It didn't make it any less wrong in the eyes of the council." Jemmiah flinched, remembering.

"I still dislike the use of the word. It implies _wanting_ something…wanting to _posses_ something. That's not a feeling we're supposed to embrace. We all face it, yes, but it has to be conquered. Everything changes and everything comes and goes in the galaxy. You recognised that better than anyone." Obi-Wan felt man enough to admit it. "You married Jonas because you realised that we had no future together no matter how much we cared for one another…you made a new life for yourself. I could no sooner keep a hold of you than I could easily grasp a slippery bar of soap…"

"Ah-ha!" Jemmy impishly stuck out her tongue at him. "See? You admit it! You admit that you wanted me! In fact I remember you telling me as much, when we were dancing at Sula's wedding - right before she left the Jedi order to be with _her_ husband. 'I want_ you',_ you said. Remember? Not to mention your two proposals of marriage. Conveniently forgotten those, hmm?"

"Yes, well." Obi-Wan shrugged, as if it were unimportant. "I was young and stupid in those days. Now the only thing that I _want_ is to see Anakin through his training." His eyes narrowed purposefully at the young woman still pinned beneath him. "Although, seeing as how you are here…"

Jemmiah watched the hawkish expression soften to one that seemed altogether softer. She had known all along, as had Obi-Wan deep in his heart (and anyone else bound by the Jedi code), that their marriage would never have been sanctioned. Such acts were rare indeed, granted either to those whose species was in danger of extinction, or to those whose culture demanded otherwise. Special dispensation was occasionally granted to the healers, such as Simeon, who were rarely called away on missions or field work, and sometimes to the Corellian jedi who challenged the rule due to an ancient loophole, believing it to be their right under Corellian law…

Still, if marriage was generally speaking considered a no-go, there were other compensations.

"Just as well the order doesn't insist on celibacy." Jemmy teased him. "You'd all be in trouble! Not to mention frustrated…"

"We believe in compassion, not passion." Obi-Wan corrected, realising how ridiculous his statement had been rendered by their close and intimate proximity. "Most of the time. It's a distraction. But at the end of the day the order recognises that we are all living beings with…"

"Certain needs?" Jemmiah suggested with a hint of a leer.

That devilish smile plastered itself once more all over Obi-Wan's face and this time Jemmiah was determined to know the reason behind it's inane reappearance. She gave him her traditional warning prod with her finger at just the exact spot she knew would have the greatest affect: between his third and fourth left-side rib. Long experience had shown her the best way to get the result she wanted, and sure enough Obi-Wan obligingly rolled back over on his side away from his partner's fiercely digging fingernails.

"I was just thinking how pleased I am that Anakin's not here to see us." He grinned. "I don't want him picking up any bad habits from me when he's older."

"I thought you were about to say how pleased you were that Anakin's not here to spoil the moment." Jemmy answered seriously, knowing that her reply would generate a considerable amount of disappointment in Obi-Wan. Sure enough, he answered her with a long-suffering sigh.

"I do not know why," Obi-Wan idly tried to straighten out a crease in the bed linen, "you have such a bad view of Anakin. What has he done to you? Surely he is far too young to have fallen foul of that notorious temper of yours?"

Jemmiah couldn't bring herself to look at him, even although she knew he was once again staring intently back at her. He must be able to guess, surely, having already demonstrated his skill at interpreting people's feelings by reading the force and channelling its energies? Was he so intent on hearing a confession plucked straight from her own lips? Very well, she thought grimly: she would not disappoint him.

"He took you away from me."

"He didn't ask to be trained." Obi-Wan's reaction was one of caution, certain that Jemmiah would despite all his best efforts steer the conversation back to throwing the blame directly on his poor padawan. "I promised Qui-Gon. Would you have me break my vow? You agreed that we had no future together, remember? Which was why our arrangement became…"

"Less than dignified." Jemmy cut straight back in, pulling the sheets around her for warmth. "I don't know what else you would call it. I wasn't your anything anymore, was I? In the two years since Qui-Gon died I've hardly ever got to see you!"

"You're jealous!" Obi-Wan exclaimed in astonishment. "I don't believe it…jealous of Anakin!"

"So what if I am?" She retorted, running her fingers through her tousled hair. "I didn't just lose Qui-Gon the day you went off to Naboo - I lost both of you! Don't you dare laugh at me!" Jemmy hissed with such vehemence that Obi-Wan had to stop himself from recoiling. "You of all people - don't _ever_ laugh at me when you _demanded_ to know how I feel! The moment I tell you and you just shrug it off as if it's ridiculous!"

"It _is_ perfectly ridiculous!" Obi-Wan insisted.

The Corellian sat up, the bed linen bunching up beside her. "We spent years in a relationship that Qui-Gon saw from the start was destined to go nowhere, but it didn't matter to me, because I cared about you. _Really_ cared. One way or another I have cared about you from the first moment I set eyes on you." She stared directly at the wall, pointedly refusing to look at him. "Sure, we both knew it would end nowhere…but it was fun whilst it lasted. But since you started training Anakin you've shut me completely out of your life!"

"Nonsense." Obi-Wan replied tartly.

"I went from your friend to your lover…then I became your whore!"

"Jemmy!" The padawan shouted crossly. "That is not true!"

"Even _that_ I didn't mind, because at least it was honest. I was no stranger to sneaking about behind people's backs. We did enough of it when Qui-Gon was around but I didn't expect you to have to hide me from Anakin like you were ashamed of me! There's no sin in enjoying each other's company. But we rarely seemed to talk…and you only ever did come to visit me when you wanted to sleep with me!"

"I can't believe you are saying this." The knight shook his head.

"I can't believe you are denying it, either!" Her eyes blazed furiously in the darkness, challenging him. "Wake up, Obi-Wan! Think back to what it was like and tell me that's not what happened!"

His mouth opened and closed aimlessly for a moment like a fish out of water as words formed and then finally died on his lips. And then finally there was a very telling silence.

"You see." Jemmy nodded, feeling utterly vindicated. "You can't. Maybe we couldn't see it at the time…maybe we were too busy trying to lead our double existences, but the truth was there if we'd cared to search for it. I was happy to be your lover but I would have given anything to have been your friend as well…" Her voice became impossibly small and childlike, recalling instantly the younger Jemmiah whom Obi-Wan, along with his master, had helped to rescue all those years ago. "But you pushed me away. Surely the code doesn't have any rules about having friends? I want my old playmate…I need _my_ Ben back again."

Silence.

"One call every now and again to let me know you are alive. That's all. Is it so much to ask of you?" Demanded Jemmiah, continuing on the attack. "Anything could happen to you at any time…Qui-Gon's death proved that beyond all question. And I may not have any major part in your life but that doesn't mean I've stopped worrying or caring what happens. Don't erase me from history just because Anakin's training comes first."

She noted Obi-Wan's deadened expressionless face and wondered if it was worth the effort trying to get through to him. "Well, I guess that clears _that_ up nice and quick, doesn't it? Clearly you have no time to talk to friends. It's okay to go to bed with them, though?" She indicated the crumpled sheets with an angry flourish of outstretched hands. "I suppose that's all I'm good for. That's what Jonas said: I don't know why I'm remotely surprised to find you agreeing with him…"

Having ceased her bitter monologue, Jemmiah pushed her way past Obi-Wan and slid out of the bed, leaving him to stare after her as she retreated through to the living area and the balcony.

* * *

She was crying again; Obi-Wan could sense it in the same way he could sense so many other raw emotions spilling out into the force, like water pouring from a dam. It was at times such as these that Obi-Wan always found himself floundering, uncertain of his interpersonal skills or his ability to empathise sufficiently. Jemmiah's talent at keeping her feelings closed and secret were legend, and he had been frankly astonished that she had allowed him such insight as concerned her deeply private thoughts, so much so that he had been left wondering how best to tackle the awkward atmosphere her confession had created.

He walked over to the trunk against the wall and with a flick of his fingers used the force to press the release mechanism, allowing the lid to slide backwards. It was just the sort of lazy behaviour and misuse of powers that he would chide Anakin for on a regular basis, but every now and again Obi-Wan liked to remind himself how imperfect he was by allowing himself the same faults as his young student. There, on the top of the chest, was what he was seeking: a long, dark robe that had clearly seen better days but was more than sufficient for the purpose Obi-Wan had in mind. He held the cloth in his arms for a moment, glad to see that the Yerltin moths hadn't managed to get into the trunk and engorge themselves upon the precious garments that lay inside. The person they had once belonged to was gone…but hopefully this would bring some comfort to Jemmiah nonetheless.

He could see her, as he'd expected, looking out through the balcony window. Staring vacantly out into space at first glance, but Obi-Wan couldn't help but notice that her gaze was directed straight towards the Corellian sector. Was she missing home, he wondered? Or was she missing…_him_?

"I, er…" Obi-Wan hesitated a fraction before daring to approach the shaking figure from behind. "I've never had to comfort a distressed, naked lady before, so please forgive me if I don't quite get it right…"

His own robe, shorter and lighter in colour than the one that he slid over Jemmiah's shoulders pressed against the Corellian, surrounding her with warmth. She'd looked so beautiful, standing there against the backdrop of Coruscant's tall buildings and busy skyline that it would have been easy for him to have simply scooped her into his arms and carried her back to his bed…but that would have defeated his purpose in seeking her out.

"I wanted to talk." Obi-Wan admitted, his breath disturbing the hair beside her ear. "That was why I wrote you the note. I didn't want things to be left the way they were any more than you did. Nothing was resolved between us when we parted. There existed this," he frowned, seeking the appropriate phrase, "terrible feeling of hurt and confusion that we were not able to voice appropriately at the time. I wanted to clear the air. I did not seek to open up old wounds, nor awaken an old love," he paused, smiling slightly, "pleasurable though it was to relive our less constrained past. I'm sorry if you think I wished _only_ to use you. That is as far from the truth as you can get, believe me." He lowered his voice before adding: "I can only assume this has something to do with the way that Jonas has treated you."

Jemmy stopped weeping long enough to wipe the tears from her eyes upon the back of the long robe, studying the heavy brown fabric as she did so.

"This," she looked at Obi-Wan in surprise, "is Qui-Gon's robe."

He nodded. "One of them. He had several, but that was one of his spares. I've kept it along with some of his things inside the trunk in my room. I have his prototype lightsabre, too; the first one he ever created as a padawan. He allowed me to study it when it came to designing my own."

Her fingers gently pulled the fabric into a bunch, bringing it up to her nose so that she might smell it, and to her astonishment she thought she could still detect Qui-Gon's mild scent from the fibres. It reminded her of a sea breeze, just as _he_ always had, back in happier times when he, herself and Obi-Wan had visited the sandy beaches of Florizan…

"I didn't think Jedi were supposed to keep hold of things." Jemmy managed to sniffle, trying her best to compose herself. "I thought possession was considered distasteful?"

Obi-Wan chuckled. "It's true. I allowed myself these reminders at the time because immediately after my master's death I felt it was simply too soon…and now I find it too late to be rid of them. I have to ask myself why I'm holding onto them when the man who owned them has gone…when the grief I had has been long since released into the force. Qui-Gon himself had little time for belongings, which is why I find it ridiculous to be clinging to them some few years later." Obi-Wan shrugged. "I don't have an answer for you. Not one that you would find satisfying at any rate. I think perhaps I'd like to keep them to remind me of the good times, rather than the bad ones. The same way that Nanny Evla kept all the flimsy pictures the younglings and initiates drew for her."

At that Jemmiah gave a weak, watery smile. She'd been thinking of Evla before Obi-Wan had mentioned her, just as she had Qui-Gon before Obi-Wan had dressed her in his robe.

"Don't feel sad for them, Jemmy." Obi-Wan nestled his chin against her shoulder, looking towards the intersecting pattern of glittering traffic and air cars that dominated Coruscant's skyline. "They are part of the force. They _are _the force…and the force is part of us, so they are never truly gone. They will always be with us."

"How did you know I was thinking about them?" Jemmy wondered, closing her eyes and soaking up the warmth that radiated from Obi-Wan's body.

"Because I can always tell when you are thinking of Qui-Gon or Evla. Or me, for that matter." The knight mused, thinking on the simple nature of the force. "No matter how far away you are. I've sensed how troubled you've become these last few months and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't concerned. I never called because I didn't wish to interfere when it was not my place to do so. I suppose I thought that you would let me know if there was anything I could assist with…"

"Two stubborn, silly fools." Jemmiah whispered into the darkness. "That's all we are."

"As to your earlier plea, we _are_ friends." He insisted with such solemnity that Jemmiah would just about have believed him were he to swear he were really a three hundred-year-old purple frog-eating Hutt. "We always have been and we always will be, because the force connects us, you and I. The thread that binds us together may stretch the length of the galaxy, but it will never break. And the love that we have for each other - the friendship - now reaches far beyond mere physical attraction, or a sibling's affection. The feeling of possession does not exist. We can love without desiring and demanding more from each other than we are able to give."

She considered his eloquent statement for a while, turning individual memories over in her head. Perhaps Qui-Gon would now have fully approved of the way their relationship, such as it was, had turned out. Two beings linked by the force, who loved each other, but were not consumed by that love, able to walk away from their relationship and let each other go: something he had been unable to achieve where Tahl had been concerned. There had been a time where Qui-Gon, having tread that particular dark path, had been unhappy to see his padawan and 'daughter' charge headlong down that same road…

"It wasn't always so." Jemmy reminded him, feeling strangely content to snuggle against Obi-Wan. "Remember? Urior? The Kaligari crash? I asked you to let me go then and you couldn't, even although you promised me…"

Obi-Wan found himself recollecting the Kaligari debacle with immediate clarity. He felt himself thrust back onboard the lurching starship, the emergency lighting bathing the walls with an eerie blood-red colour. The warning alarm sounding repeatedly. The smell of fried wiring in his nostrils. Screams from some of the less travel-hardened of the flight crew…the lunging feeling of his stomach as the escape pod rolled towards the jungle moon of Urior. The reunion with some of his fellow Jedi…discovering that Jemmy was still alive, only to realise he might lose her to sickness and treachery…

His eyes snapped open and to his relief he found himself once more back in the Jedi temple, holding Jemmiah in his arms.

"It wasn't your time." Obi-Wan said simply. "I felt it…I drew on the force from all around me, as did Simeon. It was the most amazing feeling: the three of us joined together, all merging with the every living creature on the moon through the force. I know you asked me to let you go. But the force said no."

Jemmiah took some time to process that information. "And," she lowered her voice respectfully, "if it _had_ been my time? If the force did not respond the way you wished, and you still had a change to save me? If the situation ever arose again where you could save me, but knew that you should not." She titled her head round so that her eyes might meet his. "Would you?"

Obi-Wan's lips thinned. He'd once trekked halfway across the galaxy to save Jemmy from Rufus Merdan. He'd acted perhaps as much through is own selfish desire as any wish to be of help to someone who badly needed assistance. He'd since learned to let go of those desires. Could he stand by and watch her die, if the force demanded it was the right - the only - thing to do?

"Would you save me?" Jemmy repeated.

Slowly, and with tears of his own threatening to prick at his eyes, Obi-Wan shook his head.

Far from shocking her, the answer seemed to please Jemmiah greatly. With what seemed genuine pride the Corellian turned around to face him, standing on her toes in order to dust his cheek with a kiss, and Obi-Wan found himself fighting his confusion for not the first time that evening.

"Thank you for telling me the truth." She whispered, gazing into his eyes. "You're about the only man I know that has these past few months. Or sticks by the principles he swore to uphold."

"Jonas?" Obi-Wan guessed, stroking her chin affectionately.

Jemmiah nodded. "But I don't want to talk about it. Not yet, anyway. It just gets me all mad and war-like."

Obi-Wan smiled, bowing chivalrously. "Your wish, madam, is my command. And if I might add, I am a skilled negotiator and I believe that I can perhaps, given a little time, smooth over the war-like tensions that arise in such situations with my special brand of charm and good-looks."

"I see that your modesty is still intact, even if everything else has changed." She smirked as he pretended to look scandalised by the very notion.

"Well then," he held open his own robe, inviting her to snuggle up to him once again, "we shall have to see if the coming five days prove as much a challenge to my modesty as they might to your reticence to talk. I'm here to listen, Jemmy. If you want a shoulder to cry on."

She regarded Obi-Wan in silence for a moment, taking in the neat, lightly toned frame and strong calf-muscles.

"Are you flashing me?" Jemmy enquired politely. "Or are you suggesting I share your robe?"

The Jedi knight's smile became a full-blown grin. "I was just thinking that we have the next five days in which to execute my plan B."

"Plan B?" Jemmy scrunched up her face. "Oh, you mean your plan to shut up and make love to me, yes?"

"That's the one." Obi-Wan agreed in his pleasant, refined accent. "I want to try out a theory."

"And what, out of curiously," Jemmiah found herself wondering as she rested her head against Obi-Wan's chest, "Was plan A?"

Obi-Wan threw her a wink. "The same as plan B."

"No strings." Jemmy nodded, recalling her earlier words. "No lust…no desire."

Obi-Wan paused.

"Well, not much anyway." He conceded, scooping her up into his arms and carrying her back towards the direction of his bedroom.


End file.
